


wish you were here

by minjyasn



Category: TREASURE (Korea Band)
Genre: Admiration, Aging, Blood and Gore, Car Accidents, Diary/Journal, Fear of Death, First Love, Flowers, Found Family, Friendship, Funerals, Grief/Mourning, Implied Sexual Content, Intrusive Thoughts, Loneliness, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, Married Life, Nightmares, Old Age, Regret, Rejection, Suicidal Thoughts, alcohol is mentioned, gets really dark really fast, i cried multiple times over the course of 4 months while writing this, platonic and romantic love, sometimes you can't heal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:29:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28870848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minjyasn/pseuds/minjyasn
Summary: Asahi's father told him something about time, decades ago.It won't stop for you - for your admirations, your fears, your loves, your dreams(Time doesn't stop, no matter how much Asahi wishes it would)⋆ ˚｡❁｡˚ ⋆please be mindful of all tags prior to reading.
Relationships: Hamada Asahi/Kanemoto Yoshinori, Hamada Asahi/Yoon Jaehyuk, Kanemoto Yoshinori/Hamada Asahi
Comments: 9
Kudos: 21





	1. seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before beginning this fic, I once again implore you to please be mindful of TAGS. I won't be tw-ing every chapter separately, as many of the chapters events tie directly into one another.
> 
> If any of the tags are ones that affect you directly, please turn away from this fic - It may not seem dark at first, but I don't want at-risk readers to become invested in the story when it takes a dark turn.
> 
> When more tags come to mind, of course, I will leave another note at the beginning for readers to be mindful of additions of new tags
> 
> Please stay safe as you read!

Asahi receives his first diary when he’s seven years old.

He unwraps it from shiny paper, relishing in how soft the leather feels against his fingertips. Who knew anything could feel so plush? 

His father’s hand ruffling his hair, he holds it up, opens the book to see what pretty pictures are in it, and there’s nothing.

“Mama, why is it empty?” Asahi whimpers, flipping through the pages, folding some corners in the process.

His mother laughs, takes it from his hand, and explains the point of a diary. _To write about what happens in your life._

Like any curious child, Asahi’s left to ask, “Why?”

 _It’ll come in useful later,_ she smiles, and Asahi wants to kiss her pink cheeks, even if he knows they taste like makeup, _Life doesn’t deserve to be forgotten._

Asahi doesn’t understand what she means, and she doesn’t expect him to, _You’ll understand when you’re older._

He doodles in his first diary, rips pages to fold into little origami hearts for his sisters, glues in flowers he thought were pretty, until they attract bugs, and Asahi’s left crying in his father’s arms, begging, “Papa, h-help…” 

_Asahi, I told you not to…_

He swears his dad must be mad at him, must want to disown him for bringing such a mess into the house.

His dad does nothing of the sort, as expected of a parent. He shows him the right way to press a flower, over the course of two weeks, letting Asahi switch out the gooey blotting papers, but the boy just wants this to be over with. He wants his diary back to doodle all over, yet he can’t even reach it from it’s spot way-up on his dad’s shelf.  
  
_Patience, Asahi. If we touch it, the flower will mess up. We don’t want that, right?_

All Asahi wants is his stuff back, and when his dad finally hands him the diary, the pout that’s been on his face for weeks disappears. The cherry blossoms are wrinkly as ever, petals smushed atop each other, but Asahi still thinks they’re gorgeous. 

_Do you want to know what they mean?_

“No.” Asahi says blankly, pulling at a corner of a petal until it rips off. He giggles, smushing it in his hands.

_They have a short life, and fall off their trees after only two weeks. Life is short, so time is -_

“Shhhhhh!” Asahi gives him a toothy grin, and his dad smiles down at him, hoping to finish the lecture before Asahi inevitably gets the urge to do something more fun.

 _I’m saying you should live happily, because -_ But Asahi was already up before he finished his sentence. With a soft sigh, Asahi’s father watches his son rush to the kitchen, leaving a balled-up petal on the floor in his wake.

His mom catches the little boy, hearing his little footsteps rushing behind her.  
  
_Asahi! Come here!_

He stops in his tracks, turning right back around, looking up to meet her disappointed eyes.

 _Sahi, I bought you that to write in, not for flowers and bugs._ _You should try to write something._

Clutching his mite-free diary with tiny fingers, he tells her what he thinks - that there’s nothing to write about. Being a kid is boring, and he wants to grow up. Old people have more fun, because they can go wherever they want. Then, maybe he’d have something interesting to write about!

For now, though, he’s going to continue pressing flowers the wrong way, smashing them between the hard covers of his diary, his sisters sitting by him in the garden to watch a disaster in the making.

⋆ ˚｡❁｡˚ ⋆

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for reading! 
> 
> i've been working on this fic since october, and i'll be leaving a longer authors note when it comes to an end - i've decided to upload in chapters to finally get it out there, and get some more time to chip away at the rest.
> 
> ideally it'll be updated weekly, though school may change things around. chapters will also be of varying length, haha.
> 
> (another gentle reminder that this fic will become seriously dark, so please turn away now if needed!)
> 
> feel free to leave comments, i love them, as most writers do !! find me @minjyasn on twitter, as well!
> 
> have a good day/night, see you next week!


	2. fourteen

Asahi buys a new, thicker diary at fourteen, with his own money. A brown pleather cover, that he’s pressed stickers of robots onto. He plans to use it for ten years. 

It’ll only last another seven. 

He fills it with poems of Yoshinori, his senior who so sweetly pats Asahi's head in the hallway. He keeps a watchful eye on the younger, even if the gap between them is only a year.

Asahi turns red when the older boy does that, forcing himself to look at the ground as he tries to start a conversation about the art class they’re in together. It starts off strong, because Yoshi’s _so_ good at conversation, but, without fail, always ends with Asahi’s awkward silence.  
  
Yoshi laughs, pulled away by one of his, what seems like, infinite number of friends. He leaves Asahi’s with pink splotches across his cheeks, hot forehead leaning into the school bulletin board. He eyes the calendar every time.

He has two years until Yoshi graduates. Plenty of time to make a move.

Asahi admires from afar, until, a year into knowing Yoshi, he comes to a realization under the springtime blossoms, flying in front of his face.

_What did Papa say about these again?_

He catches one in his hand, opening his fist to see it crushed, velvet petals creased, with lines matching those on Asahi’s palm.

_Something about time._

Time won’t stop just for his admiration. 

Their paths may diverge after Yoshi graduates. It would be smarter to confess now - get the rejection over with, or be happy with an acceptance. 

That’s how he ends up behind his high school, wind-blown blossoms between the two boys. 

Clutching his thick diary in his hands, rubbing the peeling stickers under his thumb, praying that Yoshi somehow can read the words of love he’s written inside.

There’s a lot of stumbling, but Yoshi gets the idea. He’s always been a smart one. 

“Asahi-kun, I just want to be friends, if that’s okay with you?” 

There’s a burning tear in Asahi’s heart, but he’s only just starting to nod when Yoshi decides to continue.

“Best friends?”

His breath hitches. He hasn’t had a best friend before - only his sisters. He’s admired groups of friends from afar. He’s wanted to have friends like that.

Yoshi smiles at the shy nod he receives, wind picking up speed and rushing through their hair. Their hands link and, suddenly, Asahi’s dragged back inside, through the main hallway, and towards the sports field.

In it’s expanse, he catches two boys seated at the center of the field. It’s a long walk there, hand in hand, until Asahi gets a close look at them.

Mashiho, he knows - gossip about the short, purple-haired boy stirs up every so often.

He’s different from the rumors. He steps forward, pulls Asahi from a sweaty handshake to a hug, and asks if he’s going to be “chillin’” with them from now on.

Haruto’s already being shoved forward before Asahi can answer, for introductions. The six-foot boy is much shyer than Asahi is, but it’s easy to crack the shell. He’s attracted to Asahi’s sneakers, and Asahi’s opens up enough to recall the story of how he went about buying them in Europe.

They all laugh at the way Haruto’s eyes widen, as if he didn’t know vacations were a thing.

Asahi dreams they’ll be friends as long as they live.

⋆ ˚｡❁｡˚ ⋆

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uploaded this a day early because --- i felt like it?
> 
> i do adore yosahi a lot lot lot :') *holds gently in hands*
> 
> see you next week!! a week goes by fast nowadays!
> 
> @minjyasn | twt


	3. twenty-one

After 7 years of friendship, they make the move to Korea together.

They wait in Japan for a few years, so Haruto can graduate high school - they can’t just leave him there. Asahi and Mashiho hold off on going to college, even if they’ll be the oldest in their graduating class, simply for Ruto’s comfort. 

Yoshi graduates from university by then, the adult amongst the four. While the others handled their sporadic college schedules, shifting with the semesters, Yoshi’s happy working his consistent nine-to-five, returning home each night with groceries and the hilarious scene of his roommates begging to cheat off eachother, until he finally cracks open a beer and seats himself between them.

Asahi, meanwhile, is struggling to focus on education. Living this far from home is exciting - he can go anywhere, do anything, just like he wanted as a kid. Finally, he can write something worthwhile in the new diary he’s bought, cover printed with Korean characters he can’t even read. 

They really should’ve learned Korean before they came here.

Yoshi had insisted they try to learn together, but Asahi couldn’t care less. The point of these exchange programs was to teach them the language, and it would come naturally with the new environment they were in. “Context clues,” is Asahi’s drunken answer to Yoshi’s pleas one night, face pressed into the warmth of Mashiho’s chest, “We’ll figure it out _eventually_.”

Eventually doesn’t come soon enough.

He regrets it one hot night in a bar, when the boy he’s pushing against a graffitied bathroom wall starts speaking in tongues, and not the kind Asahi likes.

Fumbling with their phone’s translators, Asahi wastes no time in sending his roommates his location, and a text, “ _I’ll be back late. Don’t worry about me.”_

It wasn’t meant to be more than a night. A night of him shoving his problems aside, basking in the way ‘Asahi’ sounds like the most beautiful word in the world when it comes from the other’s lips.

It turns to a weekend.

He finds an escape with a boy who’s too kind for his own good. Jaehyuk accepts a stranger into his apartment with open arms, and Asahi has an urge to protect this big, trusting dummy. It’s a kindness much too reminiscent of Yoshi’s. 

Cozy in the grip Jaehyuk’s wrapped him in, Asahi watched notifications flashing onto his screen, filled with half-miswritten kanji.

**Mashiho:** _Asahi, come home?? Where r u?_

 **Haruto:** _R u not comin back tnght?_

 **Yoshi:** _You’re safe? Please respond, I want to make sure._

Jaehyuk doesn’t know everything about the situation - hell, all he’s heard is that Asahi, “can’t go home, not yet.”, and the Japanese texts are indecipherable to the Korean native - but he still encourages the younger to return. Not only would tensions rise with time, but Asahi was a student, and, “You’re paying for classes, you shouldn’t skip.” convinces Asahi to finally take those first few steps out of Jaehyuk’s apartment. It’s not as much of a parting as teary-eyed Jaehyuk makes it out to be, his phone number tucked away safely in Asahi’s contacts, with a promise that they’ll go on a date next Saturday.

Asahi can sense Yoshi’s worry upon returning to the apartment, the eldest's mug crashing on the tiled kitchen flooring, a move that has Haruto snap awake from where he is on the couch.

Coffee spilled on his button up, Yoshi rushes up to him, Asahi catching his murmur of, “You idiot,”. He thumbs over the bruises scattered across the younger’s neck, and some part of Asahi wishes it was out of jealousy, and not concern, “You disappeared for _two days._ ”  
  
“I texte -”  
  
“You didn’t text enough, Sahi!” and everyone in the apartment flinches, Mashiho stepping out of his bedroom to see the commotion. Yoshi isn’t one to yell often.  
  
Asahi swallows at the stares, stepping back until he’s against the door, right hand twisting the knob. It’s locked - Asahi doesn’t have the chance to run, like he did earlier.  
  
“Sahi, you can’t be this irresponsible! You’re here to learn! Did you only come back because you have class today?!” Yoshi’s voice is quivering now, “Would you have come back otherwise?” 

Asahi draws in a shaky breath, focusing on the carpeting underneath them. He’s never noticed how brown their carpet is. Maybe it’s dirty. Maybe if he offered to clean it, Yoshi wouldn’t be mad at him.

“Asahi, I need you to look at me.” but Asahi doesn’t. Looking at Yoshi right now is going to shatter his heart, just the way it did seven years ago.

It’s going to shatter his heart, like two nights ago, when Asahi pressed his lips against Yoshi’s, laying atop him on the couch.

Yoshi had laughed it off, whispered that Asahi had “drank a bit too much.” Both knew Asahi was completely sober that evening.

All Asahi could do was apologize, yet no matter how many times Yoshi forgave him, no amount of, “It’s okay,” could lift the guilt from Asahi’s chest.

So Asahi ran - ran out the door of their apartment, to the first sign that he could read, and amongst the crowd of a dance floor, kissed the first guy he got his hands on. 

He wanted to get rid of the nasty feeling crawling on his skin, the feeling he’d done something _horribly_ wrong. To feel good again was all he wanted - to feel like he made the right choice. 

Yoshi’s hand against his back pulls him back to reality, and next thing he knows, he’s on the couch, the older inspecting the damage to Asahi’s skin.

Haruto’s tearing up when Asahi makes eye-contact with him, and Asahi’s hand unconsciously moves to cover his neck. He feels... ashamed. Not just for having a night of fun, but for doing it out of selfishness, and not even taking the time to tell them he wasn’t dead in a ditch. The four of them are all new here, and they’re supposed to look out for each other. Asahi didn’t give them a chance to do that.

“You’re going to promise me you won’t do it again?” Yoshi presses his thumb in the dip of Asahi’s collarbone, feeling the tenderness where Asahi’s moles usually stick out against his pale skin. Now they’re covered in purple, indistinguishable from the bruised area surrounding them.

Asahi decides the truth would be the better option here, as bad as it makes him feel.

“He asked me out.”  
  
“And you’re taking him up on it?” Yoshi’s gaze on Asahi’s hickeys breaks when Mashiho pushes the door of the bathroom open, five concealers in hand for Yoshi to choose from. Letting them clack against the coffee table’s glass, Yoshi takes his time picking Asahi’s shade. The younger, meanwhile, has a chance to think up a defense. Why _would_ he take up a foreign stranger’s offer for a date?  
  
“He bought me breakfast,” is what Asahi comes up with, the other sighing and dabbing concealer against the visible marks.

Mashiho can’t help but smirk, and Asahi feels the couch sink a bit when his friend sits beside him, “All it takes is cereal to win your heart?”  
  
“Breakfast sandwiches and banana milk. It’s a good start.” Asahi corrects, holding his breath to let Yoshi blend the concealer with two of his fingers.

Mashiho’s silent, watching Yoshi work, yanking down Asahi’s collar to help. As shitty as the last fifteen minutes have been, with the warmth of his friends on both sides of him, he thinks the day might just get better.

Yoshi reaches for his phone halfway through, smearing concealer on the screen, texting Haruto. Asahi can’t exactly tell what the kanji says, since it’s hard to read upside down, but Haruto going into Asahi’s room with the sound of the drawers opening isn’t a good sign.

The youngest walks back to them with a towel for Yoshi to wipe his fingers on, dropping a folded sweater, red and thick, into Asahi’s lap.

“You’re _kidding._ ” Asahi whines, lifting the sweater, a turtleneck he brought to Korea simply upon his mother’s request. “Yoshi, it’s _hot_.” 

“You did this to yourself. Put one on, so I can drive you to class.”

Asahi grumbles, taking his (unsurprisingly, very stained) shirt off to slip the turtleneck on. Yoshi’s smart enough to have an idea of what’s going to happen, rushing to cover Haruto’s eyes, but Asahi surely isn’t - if he did, he would’ve known better than to change out in the open.

The marks on his back elicit a soft _oh-ho_ from Mashiho, who grabs at Asahi’s arms to try and see the front, the blonde kicking and screaming relentlessly, “Get _off_ me, Mashi!” 

“He did a number on you, Sahi!” Mashiho snickers, pulling Asahi by the wrist, “Oh my _god_ , your arms too?!”

“Both of you!” Yoshi huffs, arms exhausted from reaching up so high to keep the youngest’s eyes covered, “Please. We need to go.”

And with a final push from Yoshi, the three reluctantly climb into the back of his Toyota, towards the college Asahi spends another four years at.

At graduation, they come to a consensus that home isn’t in Japan - home is wherever the four of them are together. 

⋆ ˚｡❁｡˚ ⋆

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- i may be taking a little break from this fic ! i'll be back the tuesday after valentine's day - i'm hoping to have a valentine's fic released, but have been having trouble focusing on finishing it (well.. starting it..) - so, i'm hoping a little break from here would be good to get that fic fully done !! hope you don't mind - 
> 
> @minjyasn | twt


	4. twenty-eight

Asahi celebrates his 28th birthday with his family, wrestling his daughter to sit in his lap so Yedam can take this damned photo.

As soon as she hears the shutter click, she leaps off Asahi’s lap, running back to Uncle Yoshi, making grabby hands until he finally scoops her up.

She begs him to let her draw, on her parents’ wedding frames, on her baby photos, on anything she can get her hands on. Yoshi scolds her gently, pressing little kisses to her scalp, carrying her off.

Asahi feels one on his own, turning to see his husband, with the dopey grin that has Asahi falling in love all over again, “Happy birthday, Sahi!”

“Thank you, Jae.” His hand hovers across Jaehyuk’s shirt, until he finds his husband's tie, yanking him down into a proper kiss.

Baby-ish coos coming from the kitchen have the blonde pulling away, Jaehyuk whimpering as he tries to press back against his husband.

“Shiho!” Asahi eyes the purple-haired boy’s smirk, “Stop that.”

“ _Stop that!_ ” Mashiho mocks back, in a voice so annoying Asahi’s left wondering, _Do I sound like that?_

It’s then that Haruto starts calling for help from the bedroom, Asahi unable to catch it, brain still on overdrive, trying to speak in only Korean for the party.

He feels his hand being squeezed, and suddenly the warmth is gone. Seems like Jaehyuk must’ve understood Haruto’s Japanese before Asahi himself - Nice to see all that practice is coming to use.

There’s crying - Asahi’s assumption is it’s the same as last year’s issue, the year before, and the year before that: Jeongwoo’s emotional about the fact Jaehyuk now has a husband, a daughter, a family.

The others laugh when the sobs find their way into the living room, but Asahi thinks it’s reasonable. Sometimes, he’s overwhelmed that _so much_ has changed, for the better. He’s got the sweetest husband, an adorable daughter, a beautiful home. 

This is the greatest life’s been for Asahi.

He can’t help but look at the frames lining their walls, the ones his daughter has relentlessly tried to draw on. 

Their first dates, the proposal, wedding day, the day their daughter was born, and four birthday pictures, all in a neat row. 

Speaking of his daughter, where _is_ Hana?

Just as that feeling of parental anxiety’s about to kick in, Asahi swearing his blood pressure is rising, he catches the sound of Yoshi’s angelic voice.

Following it, towards their apartment’s balcony, he props himself against the glass doorway in silence, because _holy shit._

Yoshi’s singing. He’s singing his heart out, soft as ever, to the little girl he’s cradling in his arms.

No one’s heard Yoshi sing. Asahi half wants to slide the glass door shut, so he can keep it’s beauty all to himself, as selfish as it is. He’s always been selfish when it comes to Yoshi.

It’s when Yoshi starts choking up, lifting the girl close to his heart, that Asahi steps forward, hand falling to Yoshi’s shoulder.

“I-I’m sorry…” Yoshi smiles through the tears welling up in his eyes, still enamored by the little girl in his arms. 

“No, no, no no no…” Asahi shuts the door behind him, kneeling beside Yoshi's seat, “It’s okay to cry, don’t worry.” 

Yoshi’s struggling to take in a breath, but once he does, the cutest grin spreads over his wet face, “I-It’s good. Good tears.” 

Another sob, and Asahi tilts up, cupping Yoshi’s cheek with a soft whisper of the elder’s name.

Yoshi breaks again when he sees the little girl sleeping peacefully in his arms, leaning further into Asahi’s cheek.

Minutes pass, of Asahi shushing him, running a hand through his hair, until Yoshi finally manages to speak.

“I-- I never--” Yoshi swallows back the sob, sniffling into his own sleeve, “Never knew how people cried from joy, Sahi… I never thought I would.”

He runs a hand through his niece’s velvety hair, stopping at the little yellow scrunchie she has on. Yoshi bites back yet another sob, taking a long, deep breath in its place, “I’m so _happy_ for you.”

_I’m happy for you too, Yoshi. Happy that you’re able to shed tears of joy._

_Even if it’s just once._

⋆ ˚｡❁｡˚ ⋆

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a while since i updated so i figured i'd toss the one i've finished, the rest aren't so it'll take longer :( this chapter was kinda... is not my best work but i want something out there and it's been 'done' for a while, i didn't have much more to add.
> 
> also my valentines fic did not end up finishing on time - i have 40 drafts, no motivation to finish them, i kind of just chip away at them here and there, but none get finished;;; maybe one day B)
> 
> twt | @minjyasn


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